I groaned as I tugged at my skirt. It was way too short and just refused to cover more than the bare minimum of my thighs. I mentally cursed my mother as I stepped into the school halls. They were crowded and loud. Teenagers screamed at each other from the other side of the corridors; footballs were being lobbed at other people; people were collecting books from their lockers. This was very strange and new to me - I had just recently moved here, to Malibu, California. This was my first day at this terrifying new high school. I had originated from London, England, but recently, my father had gotten a large promotion in the US, so we had to leave. I didn't resent him for making me leave my family and friends behind - in all honestly, it had come at a very good time for me. A fresh start was exactly what I was searching for, what I needed.
I entered the fray - the mob encircled me, but paid me no attention. They pressed in from all sides, making me feel claustrophobic. I pushed through, shoved my way into small gaps in the crowd to get to the office. Eventually, I got there, and I stepped up to the wooden divider. I peered across into the small reception area in front of me. I smiled as an elderly woman with greying hair styled in an intricate hairdo approached me from the other side, smiling pleasantly. She took a seat at the computer in front of the divider, placed her hands readily on the keyboard and looked at me.
"How can I help you, love?" she asked me, merrily.
"Hey, I'm new here?" I told her, my statement seeming more like a question.
"Your name, dear?"
"Olivia Dixon," I told her. The little old woman in front of me began tapping at her keyboard, her eyes darting along the screen as she found my record. She hit a button, and the printer starter whirring and chugging. A sheet of paper flew out and the receptionist handed it to me.
"Okay, Olivia. This is your schedule. It shows you where your homeroom is, and all your classes. School ends at half past four and lunch goes on for forty-five minutes. I'm sure your first teacher can assign you someone to help you get to your classes. Also, you seem like a charming person so I'm sure you will make new friends in no time! Your locker number is on there, along with the combination. It's all labelled on your schedule." She paused to smile at me, "anything else I can help you with?"
"No, that's lovely, thank you," I told her.
"Have a good day, Olivia!"
I smiled and waved at her as I walked away, ready to hunt for my locker. Again, I pushed and shoved my way through the fray. I looked down at my schedule to find my locker number.
I sighed and tried to solve the puzzle that was my locker number. Looking at the lockers around me, I noticed they all ended in 'G', therefore, I assumed that stood for the floor I was on? I wasn't sure. I looked again at the locker nearest me and saw it was locker 99G. To the left of that was locker 101G. I went to the other side of the corridor, against the flow of the crowd. Fellow pupils looked at me like I was a lunatic. When I reached the other side of the hall, I was facing locker 100G. To the right of that locker was 102G. Smiling to myself, I hurried along the corridor, occasionally stopping to come in at the side and check on what number I was at. When I eventually reached locker 152G, I entered the code and my locker door clicked, so I yanked it open. It was fairly empty - one chocolate bar wrapper remained. I picked it out delicately and threw it in the rubbish bin beside me, labelled 'garbage'. Sighing, I threw my bag into my locker. Then I looked once more at my schedule.
1st hour: English
2nd hour: Biology
3rd hour: History
YOU ARE READING
Is This Love? Not This Time.Teen Fiction
Olivia Dixon is that new, British kid with a slutty past. Bradley Hertingstone is that young, hot British English teacher. Bradley is Olivia's ex-boyfriend. Bradley is also Olivia's new English teacher. Aww, shit.